Father, why?
by FrontalAssaultDSFTCI
Summary: What if Creon brought Haemon back in time to heal his stab wound? How it actually happened and how Creon's mind is broken beyond repair. Insanity is such an ugly word. No slash unfortunately . Char death, violence, insanity, H/I and C/E. past H/A.
1. Prologue

**A/N: So I was in class, English class, and my teacher gave us a warm up-journal thing that was "Write an alternate ending to Antigone anyway you want," so I wrote this and decided, '_hey! why not post it on the net?' _so here I am. **

_Disclaimer: Hello, how are you? Bad? Terrible? About to puke? Well that's wonderful! Have a glorious day and feel free to not sue me! Why? I don't even think I need a disclaimer for this, its public domain right? Well whatever, I still don't own Antigone!_

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><p><em><span>Prologue<span>  
><em>

Many of you assume Haemon died that night in the stone wall, holding his wife's body close to his own. This is not true - false. One had to be present to truly understand all that happened that night and the months to come. To fully understand why and how what went on did. Many would find it ludacris, insane, blasphemous, yet those involved knew and comprehended. Still, to this day, many are not completely sure of what happened, and why. The truth of that night needs to be brought forth. Haemon did not die, physically. In a sense, one could say Haemon died that night. A walking corpse, the dead among the living. Not many walk away from seeing their dead would-be-wife hanging from the ceiling, her neck brutally broken from the pressure caused by the wedding dress she wore wrapped tightly enough to cut off air intake. This scarred Haemon, killed him, yet he was not the only one to suffer from the incident. That night, a father was broken irrepairably. This father had no chance of fixing himself after this. Witnessing his only son, the oldest, the youngest, his favorite, lying crumpled upon the cold stone floor as his blood pooled around his body and was soaked into the dress of his beloved wife. The wife that Creon had denied the marraige of. It wasn't something he could handle. Creon snapped that night, his mind would never work the same way it always had. Creon, though commonly accused of being the root of all evil, was nothing more than a victim of the world and all of its disorder. Blaming ones self was never a logical thing to do, it only caused more harm than good. This was a contributing factor the the tragic fate of Haemon, Creon and the others. Creon couldn't handle the stress, the pain. Couldn't handle the fact that he had allowed his son to die even though he tried so hard to save him. Oh, he was well aware of the fact that Haemon still lived in his body - it was plain as day seeing him walk down the stone steps of the palace with that blank stare on his face - but he also knew that he would never really be there. He, Creon, was cracking, and it was becoming more visable with everypassing day. He was at the edge, only one push was needed to cause him to fall. And push they did. Haemons new relationship is the final nudge needed to knock him off the cliff of his mental state. How about I go back to the beginning and tell you the story of Creons destruction? It is a very interesting story indeed.

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><p><strong>AN: Yes, yes it's short. BUT thankfully, it's just a prologue and the next will hopefully be much longer! YAY! u**


	2. Saving you

_**A/N**_**: Dear readers, I apologize for the slightly late chapter. I know it's only the second chapter that's actually only the first chapter, seeing as the first was the prologue...ANYWAY! I've been working on this periodically since I posted the story, since I have issues with writing an entire chapters worth in one go. Also my girlfriend, the lamp, has been giving me crap for dating my boyfriend, the squirrel, at the same time. Getting off topic. Yeah I'm just going to end this a/n now 'cause you probably already all think I'm a loon, but IT'S 4:24 IN THE MORNING! Plus I've had a headache all day because of exhaustion 'cause my mom woke me up early and I fell asleep at like 2:30(early right?).**

_Disclaimer: I wonder if anyone actually get's sued for not putting one of these up...Well I'm not going to test it that's for sure! I don't know if Antigone is public domain but whatever I'll put this up anyway. I don't own Antigone or any of it's lovely characters. I did in fact make up the Pirro, Ceasar, Plato, and Maia, so yeah..._

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><p><em><span>Chapter 1<span>_

A large stone door was the only thing between Creon and Haemon's survival. Once he passed through those doors it would all turn out ok. Plato ran ahead slightly so he could open the doors and Creon could pass through without wasting time. As Plato's hands left the cool bronze handles, a tall, male, long-haired servant clothed in robes of second class material that was the slightly off white color of hard labor, rushed to greet those who entered and alert the guards if they were intruders or a threat to the king. His dark almost black eyes opened wide when he saw Creon, his robes bloody and ragged with an even worse looking Haemon clutched in his grasp. He stood stock still as the king rushed through the now clear passage-way to get to the main hall where three people stood, one being Eurydices- his wife- and two unrecognizable.

"Creon!" The three shouted simletaniously as they all turned towards where the king was shifting his son and a nervous guard stood behind, panting almost as hard as Creon himself was. The long-haired servant, which Eurydice wracked her brain for the name, rushed in with the head healer of the house: Demitrius.  
>The next few minutes were a blur for Creon. All he knew was something was being taken from his arms, something he knew he shouldn't - or didn't want to - let go of. He felt cold hands press into his muscular back and guide him to a room, one he didn't recognize, and be placed in a chair by the far window. He sat for what felt like hours, but was only five or six minutes in reality.<p>

Once his mind returned to him, Creon began to understand what was going on: his son was dying in the other room because he had killed his bride-to-be. A horrid stabbing feeling began in the area where he assumed his heart was. He glanced down, expecting a crimson color to be spreading through his robes. What surprised him exponetially, was that the blood he was expecting was brown and crusty. Now that he thought about it, his entire being felt stiff and sticky at the same time. After checking himself over, he found his arms to be covered in a reddish-brown substance he guessed to be dried and still wet blood. His usually light azure robes were stained and ruined. All Creon could think was, I need to get new robes.

Creon got up from his chair and exited the strange room he had been left in. He attempted to navigate himself through the long narrow corridoors of his home and wound up outside of Haemon's chamber. The faint, musty smell of oak and rain drifted from under his door. Creon's calloused hands found themselves resting on the decorated marble door leading into his only son's room. His blunt fingernailes glided over the smooth marble as he clenched his hands into fists and rested his pounding head against the cool surface.

A call from down the corridor startled Creon as he turned sharply to glance at the voice. A small red-haired servant rushed towards him, on his face a look of surprise. He was wearing clothes similar to Ceasar's, his higher, in all but quality. This small servant's outfit looked barely to fit him where Ceasar's seemed only a few months old. Once the servant reached him, he immedeatly dropped to his knees and began apologizing for disturbing the troubled king. Creon demanded he rise and say what he intended.

"W-well master, you are covered in blood and the queen announced to all of the servants that if we were to find you we were to attempt to convince you to join her in the medical wing." He glanced down then, his long,wavy red locks hiding his meek, emerald green eyes. Creon looked down at himself suddenly remembering why he left the room in the first place.

"Tell her I shall go put on fresh robes and meet her there. Now." His voiced echoed throughout the are and the frightened servant rushed to meet the queen and tell her the news. Scurrying off down the hallway, Pirro past many servants and workers of the royal house. Pirro couldn't help loving it, the quick moving people rushing down the halls either alone or in small groups, made him feel something. He felt like he was a part of this, this chaos and work. Pirro wasn't too mistreated, only on a bad day or if he didn't follow orders correctly. Then Ceasar would get really angry at him and he would wake up in one of the many halls and navigate himself back to the kitchens to help with breakfast, as he always did.

Though Pirro loved the hectic lifestyle of a servant, he couldn't help wanting to leave. Pirro wasn't the type to like being told what to do. If he was new to the servanting business, he would probably have been killed by his fourth week. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you saw it,) Pirro was born into the servant business. Many of the people born into the job were refered to as slaves, for they were unable to get out of it and usually didn't want to be involved. Most of the servants were in debt and decided to pay it off with service, when that debt was paid they were allowed to go home. Pirro didn't have this option. He was probably going to die alone in the streets once he got too old to work. It had happened to his grandfather many years ago. The two were using some of their free time to just talk in the laundry room, the occasional maid coming in and putting up or taking down clothes from the thin rope that stretched across the room. Three bulky guards and the late Queen Jocasta entered the room and took him from the room. They never gave him a proper burial.

"Pirro! I've been looking everywhere for you! Where've you been?" Maia, one of Pirro's slave friends, called out to him from the end of the hallway he had subconcioussly turned down. It ended up being the medical wing, and lucky for Pirro, he remembered the message he was tasked to deliver. Pirro rushed to the area he assumed Eurydices would be located, and lucky for him, she was sat on the floor wondering where her husband was.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah next chapter might be a little later, but I will try my hardest. I only write when I'm in a "writing mood", just like I only draw when I'm in a "Drawing mood". Love my readers! I'm going to take a nap now. Oh! THE HEALER LOOKS LIKE NEIL PATRICK HARRIS. I less than three him and he's the doctor. Thank you. R/R please!**


	3. Garden of Insanity

**A/N: Greetings readers. I come from a land. A land far away. The land of writers block. A terrible sight to see in the land of writers block. Hundreds of writers, stranded on islands of nothingness. No plots, unfinished plots, and destroyed plots. Ripped and shredded papers filled the polluted water, ink and graphite seeping into the water, turning it black as night. I was one of the lucky ones, one of the few to get off that terrible island and return to the world of writing once more. I'm so glad I can see my readers again! Hope you like this chapter! Major flashback too.**

_Disclaimer: Yeah... still been too lazy to actually check to see if I need this. Its like 75 years after they die, right? So it's public domain 'cause I'm sure Sophoclese has been dead for over 75 years. Whatevs._

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><p><em>Chapter 2<em>

A lot of time had passed since the incident with Antigone. Haemon had gotten a fever in the hospital wing after he had been patched up by Demitrius, Creon's most trusted healer. The king and queen had panicked, for a while until the fever passed and Haemon woke. For days after the incident, Haemon glared at Creon constantly. At meals Haemon barely ate and spent most of the time staring either at his foor or angrily at his father. If they passed in the halls they would either look down or away. They never spoke and anyone in a room with them could feel the tension in the air.

Haemon had begun to slip into a dark depression. He no longer lived, he just...was alive. Creon had lost his loving, trusting son and had been given this shell of him, and he knew it was his own fault. If he had just let Antigone live, if he hadn't let his pride cloud his better judgment. Judgment. What a stupid concept. There was no judgment, no law. Anything still considered 'law' was corrupt. Corrupted by him. His pride and his anger. He was a failure of a man who let his own son fall so far. What had he done to help him? Kill his fiance? He knows he should be there for him. Be there to get him through this time of stress and depression his son was going through, but he couldn't. He couldn't stand the constant shame and guilt he would surly feel. There goes his pride again, denying his son comfort because of his own fears. He was such a weak man, unable to help the people he loved. He had failed his son, his sister, his wife, and his nephew/step-brother. Oh Oedipus, if he could only see Creon now. How far he had fallen, how he had killed his daughter that Creon had promised to take care of.

He was a weak man, unable to keep his own family safe and happy. His son could no longer function correctly, his wife was constantly mourning the loss of her son and niece. He was sure the gods were looking down on him with hate, his family was destroyed and it was all his fault. He was a sorry excuse of a man, and he surely didn't deserve the title he has as king. No, if anything, Haemon had deserved the title more before this whole ordeal than he did. Now Haemon could never have the title. Creon couldn't put his once great kingdom in more danger than it already was. With Haemon in this state, he would surely destroy the kingdom. He couldn't let that happen, he had to do something to stop that possibility, but what...

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><p>Haemon had always thought of his father as a great king, one worthy of all the praise he was given. Now, he was no longer his father, he was the fallen king Creon. He would not torture himself by thinking of him as a father. If only he had let him perish in the stone tomb his beloved had been lost in. Antigone, such a beatiful woman, lost to the world now, taken away by Hades all at the fault of Creon. Such a world it shall be without Antigone. He could still recall the first moment he had layed eyes on his love after being announced he would marry her: it was in the castle garden around noon when the sun was high and the flowers in bloom. He had seen her before, spoken to her, ate meals with her, but had never really <em>seen<em> her. She was always just uncle/cousin Oedipus' daughter, never _his bride._

He had been roaming the halls of the great castle of Thebes, just thinking. Thinking about the marraige and his father. He had been subconciously walking, going nowhere yet everywhere at the same time, when he was pulled out of his pondering by the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He found he was walking the open halls in the courtyard when he heard it. Haemon followed the noises down a closed hall to the gardens, cared for by the many servants of the house. When he rounded the corner his heart stopped, he lost controll of his breathing, his eyes went wide. There in the garden was the most beautiful sight; Antigone stood in the midst of thousand of soft flowers. They were a light pink color that looked marvelous next to the glowing skin of the godess as she petted them and picked a few. The soft breeze blew her hair and caused the flowers to brush her beatiful red gown she was dressed in. Her wonderful strawberry blond locks were brushed from her face by elegant fingers. The leaves from the Valonia oak in the center of this part of the four part garden of the castle swayed with the breeze of a mid summer day.

The beautiful woman glanced up to Haemon, her amber eyes glistening in the sun as she gave him a smile. Haemon's heart started beating twice as fast as her soft red lips turned upwards in a smile and her eyes crinkled, a sign of a true smile. This thought made Haemon smile as well and pushed him to walk over to her. He was careful to walk around any and all flowers, as he knew it would probably anger her if he were to destroy the wonderful garden. As he walked over, she moved slightly behind her to sit on the stone bench and watch him. They sat for a moment, both mulling over what to say. _Weather? No. Food? No. The garden? _

"The garden is simply beautiful this time of year, isn't it?" Her voice surprised him. He stared inter her eyes and realized she had been singing earlyer, which was what he heard. "I often come to pick flowers and just...think. It's so peaceful and lovely." She turned her head back to look into the blue sky.

Haemon continued to stare at her when he spoke, "Why yes, simply amazing." She turned back to him and smiled.

Haemon continued to think of Antigone after that meeting. The conversation had gone wonderfuly until a small servant boy came to tell them that their evening meal was ready. They had walked back to the dining hall in a comfortable silence that turned into meaningless small talk after seating themselves at the table with Ismene, Creon, and Eurodices. Their love had grown since then, and they both accepted it. When Creon had told Haemon that he had sentenced Antigone to death, he was submissive, as any son is to their father. Yet, after much thought, Haemon came to the conclusion that Antigone was too much a part of his life to be lost. She was much to important to him to be tosseda aside by his sensless fool of a father. The man never had much tact.

Oh where the feet take you in moments of tumoil. As Haemon returned to himself, he saw a familiar sight. The same beautiful passageway he walked down what felt like years ago. He could already smell the flowers he knew to be in bloom at this time of year. As he rounded the same corner he stopped dead. There before him was a sight he thought he'd never see again. Strawberry blonde hair fell over fragile shoulders. Graceful fingers plucked those same flowers she had. The image dissapated soon, but what was left in its wake was an even more peculuar sight. Strawberry blond turned to gold, the woman got shorter and where Antigone had stood was now a beautiful girl, one not much younger than Antigone herself would have been, had she been alive.

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><p><strong>AN: Be back next time on... This story! Whoooo! Yeah I'm guessing I'm not going to be updating this for a little while, not too long, actually I'm probably going to start it now. Maybe. I'm actually putting off homework to do this so who knows! I've gotten caught up in Tumblr and it's taxing on my free time. Anyway, R/R!**


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